Waiting
by Jenshu7
Summary: A detailed account of Edward's life starting from his change into a vampire.
1. And Ending, and a Beginning

Chapter 1 - An Ending, and a Beginning

There was an amazing amount of … thought, in the air. It was … suffocating. I felt like I couldn't hear myself … think, if that was possible. Although, obviously, I was the only one that I could hear thinking, I couldn't help but get this feeling, that I knew the thoughts of others as well. It was like my mind was subconsciously analyzing every little detail of a person's expression, gestures, and reactions, and thereby gathering a sort of idea as to exactly what that person was thinking at that given time. Of course, I could never prove this, but I was confident, that had I been given a chance to ask, I wouldn't have been proven wrong. It was a confusing concept, but that was the way it had always been. Other thoughts. That was what dominated my life constantly. It was as if I couldn't get away from them, even if I wanted to. And right now, the thoughts weren't exactly content or pleasing thoughts. They were violent and tormented and scared and fiery. It was the atmosphere of war. I could smell the adrenaline running through men's veins, hear the fear beating in women's, and listen to the confusion rolling off of children's minds. It was all very overwhelming.

And yet, all I wanted was to become a part of it. A part of it all. I wanted to be brave and honored. I wanted to fight for my country. I wanted to come home victorious, with possibly a purple heart and a special congratulations from President Woodrow Wilson for my bravery, my stellar service to the country. Not that I had ever taken a keen liking to Wilson; there was something in his face … At any rate, this … feeling of mine, was by no means some superstitious act. I genuinely knew the minds of others. For example, on the subject of war. I knew mother did not agree with me. Even though she never voiced her thoughts, she failed to see how war could be appealing. She wanted me to live. She thought I deserved to live. Life. How quickly life was slipping through people's fingers. So many soldiers lost, fighting for our country, so many innocent taken, by the misfortune of a plague. My family, we were all we had left. All the distant as well as close relatives had died off by one way or another. The economy was strong, but the living conditions were harsh. Child labor sickened my heart, and blackened the money my father earned. We were lucky, I was lucky. To be born into such a well-to-do family in such times was a blessing. And yet, I wanted nothing more than to be poor, so that I could be allowed to go to war with the excuse that I needed the money.

I took in a deep breath of air. It was so refreshing out here, on the navy pier. The smell of the sea calmed me somehow, got rid of all the confusion. I felt at ease here. As if I could become one with the breeze and flow calmly over the waters below for eternity. Calming and peaceful, just like mother. Mother, I should go back to her. She will be wondering where I am. I turned away from the gently rolling waves of the lake and started down the road. I wanted to see mother, she was an essentiality to my life, as I was to her.

***

Something was very wrong. Very wrong. The atmosphere felt too tense, too strained. I was almost afraid to enter my house. But I had to, it was essential to find out the dreaded. I stepped forward, closer to the front door. My palm rested against the cool wood of the frame. I calmed myself: It was alright, maybe I was misinterpreting things. It was very quiet to be sure, but maybe father wasn't home yet, and mother was sleeping. Or … something. It was alright, there was no need to panic. Nothing was wrong, nothing was … I braced myself and pushed the door open. Again, the abnormal stillness greeted me. It was unnatural, not at all like our usual lively household. Still, I tried to convince myself and pushed the door open. Again, the abnormal stillness greeted me. It was unnatural, not at all like our usual lively household. Still, I tried to convince myself. I had no confirmation yet, nothing was wrong. Everything was going to be alright. And then I was aware of a murmuring, coming from my parents' room. I started, everything had seemed so still before, that I had not considered the possibility of noise. But strangely, the realization that it was not so still as I had thought before did not calm me. There was something off, very off.

Automatically, I took the steps to reach my parents' bedroom door. But again, I stopped. Should I not disturb them? My father's voice drifted toward me, more clearly now.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth …"

There was a certain craze in his voice, like he was barely keeping his emotions under control I was surprised by this, my father being crazed. It was unlike him to not be composed. It was one of his amazing qualities that I attempted to take from him, inherit from him. No one did every compliment me on my restraint as they did my father. Then again, people always wanted to get on the good side of father.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth, breathe. Please breathe, open you eyes, love. I need you."

Breathe? What did he mean … breathe? My mother wasn't … breathing? The door was open before I consciously registered the fact that it had been my hands that had pushed it open. And finally, comprehension dawned on me, as I took in the scene before me. There my mother lay, on my parents' bed, looking utterly … weak. She had a hand clutched at her chest like it hurt to have that part of her exist. Like she couldn't' endure the pain. As I stood there frozen, she coughed. And the cough … it was not small and passing. It was a wheezing, dying cough. The cough of the dead. I took a step forward, an overwhelming dread forming within me. Yes, something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. It was then that my father acknowledged my presence. He shifted his position on a wooden chair beside the bed, to look at me. His light brown hair was mussed and unkempt. It was not in the usual carefree way, but in a malnutrition, crazed way. His lightly unshaven chin suddenly seemed hard and cold. there were deep black circles under his eyes, and all his wrinkles seemed more pronounced. And his eyes. His eyes were that of a madman. In those eyes, I saw into the depths of a soul that was almost not my father. There was a pure and overwhelming despair that pervaded his every thought, his every cell, his every being. He was in pain, because his beloved wife was … dying. My mother, of all people, had become a victim of the influenza pandemic. My eyes were locked with my father's. I got the distinct impression that if he did not have to keep himself composed in front of mother, he would be screaming. Screaming and thrashing and wailing, and that burning look just smoldering beneath his eyes would have taken on a fiery blaze. My father was roasting alive, burning at the stake.

I did not need to ask unnecessary questions and torment father with questions. There was nothing I need to know, to say. My mother had quite a high possibility of … death. There was nothing to discuss, there was only dread. I pulled up a chair next to my radiant beauty of a mother, now lying helpless and broken on the bed … and prayed.

***

I watched over mother until my eyelids were the weight of the sky on my shoulders of Atlas. And I let them fall over my eyes as sleep took me. I did not dream. There was nothing but a white expanse of nothingness that surrounded me in my sleep, and I was out for hours. When I awoke, it was not triggered by the sun shining through the window, or the birds chirping in the trees outside, or any of the sounds of life that surrounded me. I awoke to my mother's screaming. My head was pushed violently to the side as my mother thrashed about violently on the bed. Father was trying to restrain her, but he needed my help. For someone so sick, she was impossibly strong. Worse. Yes, my mother was worse. A thick layer of sweat covered every square centimeter of her skin, and she was drenching her clothes and the bed sheets with it. She was so pale, like the light of the moon shining on white pavement or marble. Her skin was tighter against her cheek bones today. The screaming quieted. Not because the pain went away, or even because she became too tired. But because the burn in her chest choked it out of her throat.

"Son … leave us."

"… But, father."

"Play your mother some music, you know how she loves to hear you play."

I gave up on arguing with him. He wanted to be with mother alone. They had a bond I was yet too young to understand. The bond of love that I did not know. The bond of destiny. It was different than the bond between a parent and child. Different than the bond between siblings. Different than the bond between man and God. The bond of absolute mutual caring adoration for one another. Something I felt it'd take decades, maybe even centuries to learn. Something normal people never even found. Mother and father were lucky in that. The fact that they had each other.

My foot rested lightly over the right-most pedal at the foot of the black Steinway upright piano. It was the best up and coming piano of the year. Very classy, very expensive, and very beautiful. And the touch of one key made music all that much more lovely to listen to. If I had my way, I'd spend the majority of my time sitting here on this bench, playing on this piano. I lifted my left hand and placed them on two keys, one black and one white. Gently, I pressed them down in the sweetest manner possible. The clash of the two notes brought out the beginning of the song, and I followed them slowly with two more notes in time, this time with the right hand. This song was slow and sweet, it wove an amazing story of love into my mind. When I played this, I felt like I could finally get a glimpse into depth of my mother and father's love. "Very French" was what my father always described it as. And it should be, it's written by a Frenchman: Debussy. Clair de Lune. By the Light of the Moon. It doesn't sound as captivating in English, but then again, everything sounds hypnotizing in French. That's the beauty of the language. And I suppose that's why I put up with the outrageous complexity of its grammar and learn it. The pace picks up quickly, and the notes don't seem soft and slow now. They're flowing like the sparkling water in a small stream, smoothly gliding. My wide hands reach the octaves easily as I fly through the notes. I'm going a little faster than I should be, but I want to let go a little.

I spend all day there, just playing music. I kept to the songs with light tones, so as not to bother mother and father. But if I'd had my way, I'd be pounding the keys with maximum force right now. How can this happen to my family? Are we being punished for our wealth? Are we being punished for our popularity. Are we being punished just to be punished? I may not have my father's control, but I am his son. I kept my feelings under the surface, I suppressed my needs for the needs of others. I cooked dinner: fettuccine alfredo and a caesar salad. Perhaps I should have made something simpler, gone for something easy to digest rather than for elegant. But there's only so much I can cook, and all I've ever learned are complex dishes. I suppose I do everything backwards that way, from hard to easy. It's my nature. Mother didn't each very much, and it hurt me to see how weak she really was. She was no better than from late this morning, and as sad I was to think it, I hadn't expected her to be.

"Thank you son." Father turned his head to the side to cough. "I haven't even been thinking about food." He coughed again. I was too far focused on mother to notice. I should have realized it at the time. I would have if I had not been tired from lack of sleep, sore from hours of playing. I see now that I should have seen it. My father was sick as well.

"It's … the least I can do." I replied tonelessly. I trudged out the door, and collapsed on the cough in the living room, not able to keep my eyes open for another second.

***

"NO!" I shouted vehemently. "No! She'll die faster there. So many sick and dying, she won't have a chance!"

"What do you expect me to do, Edward? She needs medical care. Medicine will do her far better than anything I could ever do for her." He was interrupted twice by a cough, and they weren't light coughs.

"Then get a doctor to come here! Do anything but send her there. It's a death sentence." But of course, it was too much for me to hope that this easy solution had just slipped from father's mind. He looked at me, the fire smoldering deep within. At first I couldn't understand his expression, but then I realized. It wasn't he expression of pity. He was looking at me like there was something obvious that I was forgetting.

"Edward," he began. "No one in their right minds would risk their lives for just on person. All the doctors willing to help are in that hospital, and we're going there whether you like it or not. Now please, stop hindering us, time is of essence. We should have gone earlier."

My hands fell to my sides, and my feet moved my body aside from my father to open the door so he could carry mother out. I was dazed as the despair hit me again. Father stopped halfway to the coach waiting, reigned up with horses, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He coughed into it, then quickly hid it away. But not fast enough, for I saw the few specks of glistening red blood freshly on the white cloth, before it was gone. I followed like dead man, the only points of light in my world crumbling before my eyes.

***

The hospital was death. It looked like death, reeked of death, and harbored death. And it was bringing me and my parents down with it. Hundreds of dying and half-dead were crammed together in a large, open space. Sometimes it seemed that all the doctors had time to do was roll in the dying and roll out the dead. Mother and father were squeezed together on two separate cots at the corner where the sickening white walls met. I spent my days caring for them, making my up for what the doctors and nurses were too busy to do. Father had fallen sick quite quickly, even faster than mother had. Mother was using every ounce of her energy to stay alive, for us. But father, he didn't seem to have the will in him anymore. To him, mother was the world. And no matter how much he loved me, his son, without mother everything would go black for him. So he took the sickness with almost a happy resignation. He wasn't fighting, he didn't want to. Things had gone from bad to worse in such a short time.

And then there was me. Of course, I was sick as well. But I managed to hide it from everyone. It wasn' too hard fooling mother and father of my sickness because they were halfway gone most of the time. The pain was insufferable to them. The doctors weren't much harder to convince, because frankly, none of them had time to notice anything in detail any longer. There were just too many patients. And too many of those patients had much more blatant symptoms than I did. I was almost invisible. But that didn't mean I wasn't sick. I'd have to go out to the faucet and wash out my handkerchief at least 5 times a day. Because it was drenched with so much blood that I couldn't use it anymore after several hours. By the third day, I'd given up. This was how my life was going to end, and I was in no position to do anything about it. I wasn't even sure that I particularly wanted to do anything about it. Because I'd had a lot of time to think these past few days. And I realized that I didn't have a passion for anything. If I did love anything at all, it would be my family. And that was it. And they were going to go somewhere that I knew almost nothing about. So what was I going to do without them? Waste away. And I certainly didn't want that. Yes, I was happy that I was going to die as well.

So, by the third day at the hospital, I gave up. And by gave up, I mean that I stopped trying to hide my sickness. I crawled into bed with my mother, and curled into her side, pretending I was her little Edward once again. Pretending that she could protect me from anything. Pretending that I had nothing to worry about, because she was with me. Pretending that everything was completely wonderful. Pretending I wasn't going to die. And more importantly, pretending that she wasn't going to die as well. I only hoped that I did not have wait long to follow her. After a few hours, a cool touch pulled me from my agonized half-dream state. I opened my eyes to find a doctor gazing over me. His expression was so protective, and caring. His touch was so light that I barely felt it, and his eyes seemed to bore into mine. But none of these things were what made me stare so hard. I thought that I'd seen my fair share of beauty in my lifetime. Sure I hadn't lived that long, but how many beautiful women could one meet during a lifetime? But I never thought that the most beautiful of women would be bested by a mere man. And this man was beautiful. Handsome would not have done him justice. He was extraordinary in his beauty, and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I was going crazy. It wasn't physically possible to be this beautiful. It wasn't physically possible for someone like this man to exist. But here he was, staring into me like he wanted to save me. So maybe he was Jesus. Or maybe I was crazy.

The doctor's face was white and smooth, I couldn't find single wrinkle or frown line anywhere. His smooth blonde hair was brushed into a perfect wavy actor-style fashion. He had thick eyelashes framed deep-set eyes that were a surprisingly light color of brown. It almost reminded me of honey, until I noticed the little specks of gold scattered here and there within his pupils. His eyes seemed to shine, like there was some different lubricating his pupils that was not water. My gaze lingered on his somehow perfect nose, and mouth. His neck trailed down to what must have been perfectly toned body that just hinted at its perfection under the white coat that he wore. There was an elegant script sewn into his left-hand chest pocket that read "Dr. Cullen." He waited for me to come to my senses completely before speaking.

"You've fallen ill as well." The sadness in his voice was overwhelming. Most people would not have cared so much whether I was sick or not. I got lost in his beauty again, unable to speak. I started to worry myself, maybe I was becoming a homosexual. Not that it mattered, because I was going to die soon. The thought brought me back to reality and I attempted to make a response.

"How … how did you know that?"

There was a sudden gush of wind near my arm, although there couldn't have been any cause for it. It had the distinct impression that the doctor had moved, even though I had been staring at him the entire time, and he could not have moved at all without me noticing it. But somehow, his arm was not stretched out to me in the same manner as before, and in his palm was my blood soaked handkerchief. I understand immediately, this was an explanation. My handkerchief was proof of my illness.

"Oh," I said. But even as I spoke, my eyebrows furrowed into a frown. My handkerchief had been in my pocket. There was no way that he could have seen it, or even extracted it without my knowing. Had I been so far gone in my sleep to not notice someone's touch? Was there something wrong with me? No, I was thinking it through too much. Of course there was something wrong with me. I was dying. My senses would not be as acute as they would have been under normal circumstances.

"Here, I've prepared a fresh cot for you. You can rest a little more comfortably." I looked to my side to see that there was indeed a new cot beside my mother's. I obeyed sluggishly, my body didn't seem to be able to react as quickly as before.

"Thank you," I murmured. And then I fell into the world of dreams again.

When I awoke, it was to the feel of a wet cloth over my forehead. Someone was wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there. It felt nice. Then the next thing I noticed was that nothing else felt even remotely nice. I felt like I was suffocating. There was a huge pain in my chest, and I felt like my heart was straining to beat. Like it was holding on for dear life. My limbs were all very numb, I couldn't feel them to tell them to move. I couldn't seem to feel anything properly. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were entirely too heavy. It was like trying to find my way up to the surface while I was under water, but suddenly not being able to detect gravity and find which way was up. I was being smothered. I cough rocked through my body, and I felt sticky substance come out of me in large quantities. Blood. I could smell the salty taste of it, making me sick. Someone wiped away the liquid and whispered.

"Edward…" The voice was speaking, but I could not make out the voice. It was a voice I knew, but I could not remember. I could not remember my name, or where I lived, or who I was. I couldn't seem to think too clearly at all. The voice came louder this time.

"Edward …" It was a familiar voice, a very familiar voice. But it sounded so far away. Who was it?

"EDWARD!" Mother. Oh, mother. Wait, mother? Mother! She was better now, she was taking care of me! My eyes fluttered open in pure shock, she was better. And then my vision focused on her face as the blackness faded away, and I knew that she was not better. She was worse, very much worse. The sense of happiness flooded out of me immediately, and my soul fell to rock bottom again. She was not better. But why was she here then? Why was she taking care of me? She should lie down, she should save herself. I didn't need to live. I needed her to live. She was much more important than I could ever be. I tried to push her away, but my arms didn't seem to want to move. I couldn't push her away, the pain in my chest was too great. It pushed on me with a thousand times more force than I pushed on it. And after a while, I stopped tying. It felt nice to have her take care of me. She was protecting me again. I let my eyelids fall back over my vision, and I fell into a stupor again.

The next time I was conscious of anything, I only had the luxury of one of my senses: hearing. There were two voices speaking somewhere near me. To my right? To my left? I couldn't tell. I wasn't in any state to be differentiating position.

"Save him!" My mother, begging for father's life.

"I'll do everything in my power." A male voice responded. The tone was so like velvet and alluring that I instantly recognized it, even though I'd only heard it once before: the doctor. Doctor Cullen. There was a small sound as some physical interaction occurred. Did he place his palm on her forehead? Did he check her pulse? Did he take her hands in his? I couldn't tell. I listened for more.

"You must," my mother insisted. I couldn't believe that she had the strength to talk. She had been the first to fall ill. How could she have to strength to be begging for father's life? She was so strong, my mother. Ever the person I would look up to. "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." Stubborn. My mother was stubborn. The doctor could only do so much. But then I realized something. She had said "my Edward." She never called father "mine." It was a term that she reserved for me … because I was hers. Because she had created me. But she had not made father, she only loved him. So she insisted on calling him, love or dear. But never "my Edward." That was for me. And so I understood that she was begging for my life. And that brought on another realization. That mother had been leaning over me and caring for me the last time I was awake. Mother was telling the doctor to save my life, not fathers. And that could only mean one thing: that father was not here to save. Because I knew mother and father. And I knew that no matter how much they loved me, they came before me. And if father were alive, she would have been begging for his life, and not mine. So she must want to save the only thing she had left: me.

No. Father. I hadn't even had a chance to tell him goodbye. Well, that wouldn't be a problem for long now. I could feel it, life was draining out of me. Soon, I would be with father again. And mother would come along with me. It was for the best, our family could not be separated. There wasn't a sound of retreating feet. But I knew that the doctor had gone. I could feel the absence of his presence. A wave of pain washed over me then, and I couldn't think about anything anymore. The last thing I heard was my mother's voice whispering over my silent screams of pain.

"It will be alright now my Edward. He will save you. I know he will."

And through the pain, I registered the loss of my mother's life as well.

***

Wind was rushing past me at alarming speed. I must be riding on something very fast. But what could possibly go this fast? A horse? No, there was no bumping at all. I wouldn't have known I was moving if not for the wind. And I could feel strong arms holding me. It was someone. But how was that possible? It wasn't logical for me to be going this fast. So … I must be dying. Is this what it felt like to die? It was certainly exhilarating. The wind. Was an angel carrying me to the heavens to be with mother and father? Would I finally get to see them again? I relaxed into the arms as I had this thought. The pain was finally going to be over soon. I was finally going to die.

But then, I stopped. What was wrong? Was I being denied entrance into heaven? What had I done? I tried to recall the worst sin I had committed, tried to ask for forgiveness before the angel decided to drop me into the depths of hell. I was a good person. Couldn't I be forgiven? All I wanted was to be with my family, was that too much to ask for? And then there was that voice.

"I'm … so sorry, Edward." The voice of the doctor. He was my angel? Had he been waiting to take us away when we died? It would explain his outstanding beauty. And then suddenly, I felt something hard at my neck, and I couldn't think anymore. Because I was burning alive, in hell.

***

Flames licked all over my body. I had never been burned before. So I wasn't prepared for this at all. I had not idea how much pain could be caused by the flames of hell. And just the thought that this would go on for eternity … If I could have shuddered I would have. And this hell was so many times worse than the one I'd imagined. I couldn't open my eyes. It was completely pitch dark. It was like I didn't have a body at all, just a brain to receive messages of intense pain. The strangest part about the pain was that it covered all of my body. No just my extremities, or my abdomen, or my legs. But all of me. And that included the most sensitive parts of me. Like my eyes, and my lips, and my brain, and my private areas. And, it wasn't just my skin that was burning. It was every single part of me, inside and out. my heart, my stomach, my veins, my blood. All of it was burning. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. There were times when I found my voice, and I would cry out.

"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY! PLEASE SAVE ME! OH GOD! AHHHHHHH …" But I never got a response. And I couldn't figure out what it was that I had done so wrong. But I didn't have much time to think on the subject before I was screaming in agony or on lockdown again. And then there were other times when my body took a mind of its own and began thrashing all over the place. Hell was killing me, and not killing me at the same time. Eternity burning. That was all I could think about. I didn't think even eternity would help me get used to this excruciating burning.

_Did I do the right thing? _

What? What was that? That wasn't me talking. Someone is talking. Someone is there? Can they help get me out, or at least help me open my eyes. I want to be able to see again…

_Yes, he would have died like his parents. And Elizabeth begged me … no ordered me to … _

Mother? What about mother? What did mother say?

_His life would have been lost. Surely this existence is better than death. Unless of course he were to have gone to heaven. There isn't a place imaginable better than heaven. So maybe I have damned him to an eternity of living hell. What can I do now? Nothing. Nothing at all… _

I couldn't understand what was being said. Was the person talking about me? He said a "living hell." What did that mean? Was I somehow still alive? And then I couldn't think anymore because the pain was so overwhelming again. I was surprised that there was anything left of my body to burn. But I supposed this was some sick phenomenon of hell. Maybe my body grew back the moment I was burned so that I could feel all the pain. Or maybe just my nerves grew back. So maybe it was better that I couldn't open my eyes. Because I wasn't sure I wanted to see what I looked like right now.

_It shouldn't be too long now. _

_There was that voice again. Help me. Please help me. But I couldn't find my voice. My vocal chords were probably charred by now. God what sins have I made for you to torture me so? God … _

_Eons of time passed while I burned away. There were periods of blackness now where I couldn't not feel the pain at all. I supposed these were rewards for my endurance or something of the sort. I welcomed these times of blackness with open arms. They were so much better than the endless burning. This was the kind of blackness that those who take their own lives would have prayed for. It was a quiet, emotionless blackness that overwhelmed the mind. When I was in those states, I wasn't even sure that I existed. It was only when I was pulled out of these periods of time back to the red fire that I acknowledged my existence. And for what it was worth, I wished that I didn't exist so that I wouldn't have to feel the pain. _

_Then suddenly, my fingertips weren't on fire anymore. The shock of this sunk into me as I contemplated the reason. And then I realized something else: I could feel something beneath the pads of my fingers. Was it sheets? Was I on a bed? Maybe I'm not dead. Living hell … hmmmm. And a while later, I was aware of something else: less pain. I could feel the burn leaving more and more of my fingers now. And did the fire just leave my toes? Thank God. He must be relenting just this much for me. Thank God. My entire hand was free of fire now. Completely free of it. My feet were the next to go. Slowly, but surely, the fire went from my legs and arms as well. But then the fire began to grow within my heart. I didn't know that I could feel more scorching pain that I had while burning. But this pain was intensified. I almost wished that my condition had remained the same. The burning grew in my heart as it pumped harder and faster. I couldn't register the pain leaving the rest of my body, because all of my senses were focused on my heart now. It was beating like mad, thundering. Faster, louder, harder. And then suddenly. Everything stopped. The silence was almost painful. I heard nothing but a strange ringing in my ears. Then I became aware of other things. There was a soft breeze blowing across my face. There was a soft texture underneath me. And there was the command of my body again. Finally, I drew open the curtains to my eyes, and stared above me into the bright light of day. _


	2. A Whole New World

Chapter 2 - A Whole New World

Immediately I was aware of the fact that I was no longer in hell. At least, if this was hell, there was no way I wanted to be anywhere else. I couldn't say that there was anything that I noticed first, per se. Because everything came to my attention at once. My eyes seemed to be looking on the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. But at the same time, it was also nothing special, just a bunch of trees. But to say that it was 'just a bunch of trees' was clearly an understatement. The trees were … lovely. And there was so much one could say about them. Reaching up toward the sky above me were huge tree trunks. And they didn't give the impression that one would usually get from tree trunks. Gazing upon bark, one would usually come up with the overwhelming thought of roughness. And I didn't mean to say that the bark didn't look rough. It was just that I could see it in such detail that the overwhelming factor of it was every little crevice, insect, moss, and bit of sap was visible to me. And these things totally inhibited my ability to see the thing as a whole. So it didn't look rough. It looked … fascinating. And as I trailed my eyes farther and farther up a particular tree trunk to my right, I could still see every little detail, hundreds of feet above me.

At the very tops of the trees were leaves. Beautiful leaves. The most glorious thing I'd seen in my life now were leaves. The smallest veins running through them were clearly visible to me, even from way down here. There was no urge to stand up or crane my neck. Because there was no need to. I didn't need to squint or will my eyes to give me a clearer view, because my eyes could see literally everything. My hands were resting on something soft and silky. My peripheral vision registered it as moss. I remembered back to my endless time of burning where I had the vague thought that my hands were resting on sheets. I now realized that I had been wrong. It had been moss. It surprised me how soft it could be. The little leaf-like projections were so much smoother than even the finest silk that I'd ever felt. It was mind-blowing.

But the remembrance of my burning days brought something else to the forefront of my mind. I was still burning. Only in one part of my body to be sure, but the burning was there. My throat. The moment I thought of it, the burning suddenly became unbearable. Excruciatingly unbearable. My hands flew to my throat, trying to subdue the horror. There had to be something to quench the fire. Every fiber of my being began searching for something. Water, or something of the like. But there no sign of a creek of pool of water anywhere near. Just endless green moss and the brown trunks of trees. I stood suddenly, in one swift movement. And I forgot the burning for a moment. My act had been so fast. It was almost hard for me to follow the movement myself, even with these heightened senses. But this thought could not hold my attention for long, because at the back of my mind, I could still feel the burning. The burning! How could I stop it! I drowned in the horrific sensation. It was different from thinking of a vague pulling of some half-forgotten guilt while you were occupied with other things. It was like not being able to stop thinking of something, but being able to think of other things, at the forefront of action simultaneously. This duality amazed me, but the fire burned on.

_What if he woke while I was away? _

Someone had spoken. "Who's there?" I called out in a stressed voice. But it did not sound stressed. The tones of my words were low and flowing, like water running over smooth moss-covered stones. Or like the velvet of a woman's dress whooshing in the wind. I was so easily distracted. I had to focus now, someone was near, and he had to be able to help me.

_Stop worrying and get to him, fast. _

There it was again! I suddenly saw a trees fly by me on either side as if I was running. I was amazed by how I could still see every detail, even while they sped past me so quickly. But then I realized I was still standing here, in an instinctual crouched position, ready to attack whoever had spoken. What had that been? I hadn't been running. I recognized the exact spot I had woken up in. I hadn't gone anywhere. How had I been somewhere else so suddenly then? What had happened?

_Almost there, just a few seconds. Then I'll see him. My companion. _

There was a wave of emotion to the words. The person felt elation. Elation at the loss of loneliness. No, I couldn't possibly read that into his words. There I go again with my 6th sense. That doesn't seem to have changed about me. The dryness in my throat scorched on. But I had to stay here, I had to wait. Something wasn't letting me move at all.

_Stop. There is breathing. No heartbeat… Edward? _

"Edward?" the voice spoke to me.

_No, I missed his awakening. How could I have been so selfish as to go hunting so close the three day mark? Stupid stupid stupid! _

"How do you know my name?" I heard it then, a soft padding of feet upon ground. Someone was approaching.

_Be slow about it, I don't want to scare him away._

"What are you talking about?" The words this man had been saying didn't make any sense.

_I didn't say anything but his name. What does he mean? _

"Why are you lying? You just said 'Be slow about it.' Don't tell me all you said was my name." I was getting angry, and fast. If I didn't get any answers fast, I'd be throwing a tantrum. Then, through the trees, I could see movement.

_No, it can't be. I've created one with a gift? Mind-reading, so fascinating. Just like Aro … but long-distance it seems. _

I didn't get it. There were no words. All I could sum it up as was: "What?" That was the primary thought pervading my mind, just 'What.' Then, I saw a body breaking through the trees. A man in a white coat. A doctor? How strange to see a doctor of all people coming through the greenery to meet me, saying things I didn't understand.

Then I saw his face, and recognition hit me. It wasn't just any doctor. It was the doctor. The doctor that had been tending to my father when he passed away. The doctor that had told my mother he would do everything in his power to save me. The doctor that had watched over me. And now, for some unfathomable reason, this doctor was here. Here with me. In this forest. Confusion swept over me. Where was I? Why was I here? Who was this doctor? Why did he say such confusing things? Why were my senses so heightened? How did I get cured? Why am I so different? What was the burning? Am I dead? What am I?

The last question scared me.

As I tried to remember his name, I realized something. It was hard to remember. I had never had this sensation before, this difficulty to remember. Was my intelligence deteriorating? I couldn't tell. What had I become?

_Edward? Do you remember? I'm doctor Cullen. I treated your family. _

Was he … thinking to me? What?

"What?"

"Edward." He finally spoke. His voice was so cautious, as if he was afraid that I'd pounce on him. Blasphemy … would I? I suddenly wasn't sure about anything. I didn't know if I was alive or dead. If I was dead, I didn't' know where I was. If I was alive, and I didn't know where I was. If I was alive, I didn't know what I'd become. What had I become? For I did not for one second believe that I could be any normal human anymore. I went over the facts in my head: I could not remember very clearly anything at all anymore, that wasn't a normal human trait was it? And I could see much, much more clearly than I had ever seen in my life. By some unfathomable reason, I seemed to be able to hear this doctor's thoughts. For some other crazy reason, I could hear his footsteps when he was so far away. For another unknown reason, everything that should have been grating was soft to me. And for some reason, my throat burned like I was still being licked by the flames of hell. I needed something, I just didn't know what it was. Water? But the thought of it did not bring me relief, I needed something else. Something … warm.

"Edward? I'm sorry, I know your throat must be burning. But I think we should … talk first, before we quench your … thirst."

"Thirst?" So it was a liquid I was craving. I had a bad feeling about this. For some reason, I didn't think that it was just a warm soup that would put out the fire.

"I've never had to explain this to someone before, seeing as I haven't ever … changed someone before."

I opened my mouth to spew confusion, but he stopped me.

_Wait please, let me finish, and then I'll let you ask any questions. _

I nodded to show that I understood his wishes, and would comply.

"I think … it would be best if I build up to the climax so that you don't … go into shock or something of the like. Not that I'm sure we can go into shock."

What did he mean… we? We were something different then, some other …. creature. I was starting to become disgusted with myself.

"So we'll start with obvious facts. Your sight is very clear, is it not?"

I nodded. "Extremely so, almost upsettingly so."

"Everything seems soft to you."

Again, I nodded.

"You do not have a heartbeat."

My eyes widened, shocked. I didn't have a heartbeat? I gently pressed two fingers to my wrist. Nothing. I moved my fingers to my throat. I pressed harder in frustration: nothing. I pulled my hand over my heart. Absolutely nothing. So then how did my body function? Oh … I was dead.

"I don't know how you'll take this. But …"

"I'm dead?" I interrupted him.

"No … You're … a vampire."

There was a deep silence. I couldn't hear him think. I couldn't hear the animals. I couldn't hear myself think either. It was just a long deep silence. And finally I spoke.

"I'm a … what?"

"A vampire… you feel the burn in your throat do you not? The legends of us creatures are not all true. We can go out into the daylight, that is if we didn't fear exposure. Because we … for lack of better explanation sparkle in the sunlight. We do feed on the blood of humans. But, I have found an alternative source of food: animal blood. We have all the human strengths, but enhanced. We can hear better, see better, run faster, exert strength better."

"Show me." I said, because there was nothing else to say. I would believe fully once I'd experienced it. I wasn't dead. I was a creature. I felt exhilarated. I wouldn't burn in hell forever.

"There are no humans for miles to entice you for the moment. You may choose yourself whether or not you want to follow my unique diet, I will not force animal blood upon you. Follow me." And then he took off.

I followed. It was quite easy. Amazingly easy. The trees flew by, but they didn't blur. They were perfectly clear to me. Every detail of every vein of every leaf of every tree was so perfectly clear to me. And I wasn't even really paying attention. I had my eyes trained on Dr. Cullen. He was hundreds of feet ahead, yet I could still see him through the thick of the trees. My eyes made up for the spaces blotched out of my view by the flora and fauna. I was partly afraid that I'd lose sight of him, and that I'd have to walk this world alone, not understanding myself fully.

But then again, I knew that I wouldn't lose him. I could tell, even now, that I was not putting on my full speed at all. I could run faster, I could run faster than Dr. Cullen even. The pace I was going at was just a leisurely pace. So I sped up, it didn't seem to take any more effort. I supposed, since I didn't have blood running through my veins, my muscles didn't have a means to get tired. But of course that would mean that my muscles couldn't logically work. But then again, logically, I shouldn't even exist.

_Catch up Edward, you can do it. Just don't run past me just yet, I'd like to show you the way. _

I ran just a little faster, coming up parallel to Dr. Cullen. I ran by his side, exhilarated at the speed. Speed was so wonderful! I could run like this forever and not want of anything else. Anything at all, because this feeling of the air whooshing around me without having to run out of energy or push my limit was wonderful! There was no other word to describe it. It was just absolutely wonderful.

_Easy there Edward, we're almost there. _

Where were we going? I had no idea, but I knew that it didn't matter where we went. It would all look just as beautiful. I wouldn't be surprised if dirt looked beautiful to me. There were so many colors, so many different shades. Everything was that much more vibrant. Even dead leaves looked so rich in texture and color. Pieces of dust flying in the air caught the light in the most interesting of ways. I looked up into the sky, and the sun shone down on me through breaks in the trees. My skin sparkled, white and scintillating in the light. Beautiful, like diamonds. My entire body could shine like diamonds. How interesting. I saw how the legends could have arisen from this anomaly. Sparkling skin. No … vampire could walk out into the sun among humans like his.

Vampire. The word sounded mysterious and powerful. Vampire. I was a vampire, a different species, a different creature. Vampire. We surpassed humans in every possible way. Vampire. We're like gods. The running was getting to my head.

Dr. Cullen was slowing now, and I noticed that the trees were thinning. I felt the moving of live away from me everywhere I went. I could feel animals scattering as we made our way through the forest. It phased me for a moment that they had this natural instinct to stay away from us. They were afraid of us, and rightly for we were better than they. We were the top of the food chain. Vampire. I like this. Vampire. I could get used to this. Vampire. I feel so … powerful.

Suddenly, we broke out into a field. I wide, vast field. It was beautiful. So very beautiful. My brain became tired of registering everything as beautiful, because now everything was. So why describe it as so, when it was a given? I looked at the glorious field that lay before me. To my human eyes, it would have seemed a normal field, but to me, now at least, no sight had surpassed this beauty. The lush green grass that seemed to spread on for miles covered the ground in its lively, vibrant beauty. But I could still see, far off in the distance there was the beginning of the forest again. As my eyes took in the perimeter, I saw that this clearing was cut in a nearly perfect circle inside the forest. There was a small pond in the center, and a herd of deer were drinking from it. They did not notice us. We were very quiet. Almost eerily so.

_Would you like to drink from them? _

"The deer?" I asked incredulously. I could smell them from here. They smelled just as unappetizing as the grass or the air around me. I did not want them. They would not quench my thirst.

_Yes … the deer. It is your choice of course. I will not force you to do anything but… _

He began to think of his reasons. And listening to him, I couldn't help but understand exactly where he was coming from. He did not want to hurt humans. He had been a human. They were the essence of us, they thought just like us. He thought of it as being a vegetarian. Humans who felt wrong in killing other animals resorted to eating only fruits and vegetables. But our did, apparently required blood, any kind of blood would sustain. And if any kind of blood would sustain, then why not take from those less closely related to us? Why not drink from the blood of animals, than from the blood of humans? It was logical. Of course, humans would taste much, much better. But what was life without a little hardship?

I had to agree. I saw the logicality in his thoughts, and there was no way that I was disagreeing with him. He had made me this creature, a vampire. And what else could I do other than to agree with him and follow the ways he wanted? He felt like a father and mentor to me already, even though I had practically just met him.

"I understand. I will try." Then I wrinkled my nose, because the deer really did smell entirely unappetizing.

_Thank you. _

"_How do I…?" I was confused. I had not hunted before. This was sure to be a strange experience. I had no weapons, was I supposed to just hunt with my bare strength? Should I crouch like a cheetah or … what? I did not know how to do this. _

"_Show me … please." _

_He nodded his head in understanding, and then he took off. Before the deer could understand what had come upon them, Dr. Cullen had caught one between his hands. He put his mouth to the jugular vein and broke the skin, drinking. I saw every step of his quick movements. My eyes were able to follow quite precisely and I had confidence that I could copy him exactly. But I did not have much time. The deer were already scattered in horror and they were running off to toward the trees. I caught one just after it disappeared among the flora. It was a large buck. My first catch. I could hear its heart thumping in its chest, the flight or fight mechanism kicking into his system. The smell of it filled my nostrils, and I felt the burn in my throat blaze. It was suddenly so much more appetizing to me when I could hear the heart pumping blood and see the jugular vein throb with each pulse. Without pause, I lowered my head down to the nape of the buck's neck and sunk my teeth in. _

_It was the easiest thing to sink my teeth into him. I didn't even feel the skin break. I only knew when the rush of blood started rushing into my mouth. And I drank it all hungrily. It did not take long before I had drained him of his entire system. As he fell from my arms, I felt a slight pang at having taken a life. I had never done that before, killed something. Well unless of course mosquitoes were to be counted in my tally. The burning was not quenched per se, but it was better. I had to have another. Then the thirst would die, I was sure of it. _

_Minutes later, I stood with Dr. Cullen in the center of the clearing. Six deer lay before us. One, Dr. Cullen had taken. The rest I had drained. I felt sick. I had killed five animals, and I hadn't even killed them kindly. They had to have the life slowly sucked out of them, and they had had no chance of fighting back. But my thirst was not completely satiated. I could feel the blood sloshing around in my stomach, yes. I did not want anymore, yes. But I still had that faint echo of a burn in my throat. _

"_Why do I still feel thirsty?" _

"_You're still young. It will die away mostly after your first year. But it will never completely be gone, the thirst will always be there." _

_That made me sober up to the fact that this was real. But then I remembered all the reasons why I liked that this life had been chosen for me, and I was happy again. There were too many good things going on right now for me to be worrying. Then another thought came to me. _

"_We don't die?" _

"_No." _

"_Never?" _

"_Never." _

"_Wow…"_

_I couldn't wrap my head around it … forever. I'd never have to die. I wouldn't get old. I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get sick. And I didn't seem to get tired. What would I do with an eternity? I could do so much with eternity. I could learn so much. And there were new findings and inventions made every day. I would never get bored of the world. It would always be changing, and I would be here for all of eternity to document it with my own mind. Perfect. Just absolutely wonderful. _

"_What is the … house for?" _

_There was a house at the edge of the clearing. It was large and lavish. I'm sure that it had been expensive to create, it looked expensive. _

"_I'm sorry."_

"_What?" _

"_I'm sorry … I had to buy all your belongings. You see, you have no living relatives any longer. I'm afraid that the Masen line ended with you. So I had to buy your belongings from the government's possession. I bought all of your property. Your land is still there in my name, but I brought all of its interior with me here. You can't go among … humans while you're still so young. You'd slaughter them. So though I know that you'd probably rather that you get to see your house exactly as it was, I've already moved everything here. I'm sorry. There was no other choice." _

"_Oh." I said. I didn't really care that he had moved the things here. I felt as if I'd be sad if I had to go back to my house and remember my mother and father. mother. "It doesn't matter. You did what you thought was best. Thank you for doing this for me." He smiled genuinely at me. _

_I sensed happiness in his thoughts. He was happy. He didn't like being lonely. I got the sense that he'd been wandering this world alone for quite a long time. No one understood his need to keep from satiating his thirst with humans. He was hoping that I would accompany him. And I didn't want to disappoint. He had offered me this wonderful life, and he had cared for my parents. I would stay with this doctor. He would become my second father, and he would help me through this new and fantastic life. _

"_Would you like to see the inside?" he asked. _

"_Yes. Yes, please." _

_I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it lightly, careful not to break anything. This amazing strength could have its drawbacks sometimes. And I was met with an incredible sight. I was looking at my foyer. No, this wasn't my foyer. But it looked exactly the same. But the house wasn't the same from the outside at all. The dimensions were all different, and much more larger and … yet, the foyer was the same. There was my piano. My piano, my Steinway piano. I noticed nothing else now. My piano looked so different now, yet still the same. I could see a lot more scratches and flaws then I had ever seen. But I knew that it was not because Dr. Cullen had scratched it on the way here, but because my weak human eyes could not see the scratches clearly before. There was a mark in the shape of a circle. A dark, murky memory came back to me of my mother telling me not to put a coffee cup on the piano. I remembered telling her that it wouldn't leave a mark, showing her that there had been no damage done. And to my eyes, there had been no damage. But I could see now, I could see that mother had been right. _

_Mother … where had mother gone? To heaven I suppose. There was no way that she could have survived. Father was dead, I knew. I remembered that from my influenza-crazed hours. I remembered the pain at the realization. I had no family anymore. No family at all. I felt myself going into a state of depression. How easily my mind seemed to change from a state of exhilaration to a sad state. This mind was so new to me. It seemed to go through emotions like tissue paper. _

_I felt Dr. Cullen's hand on my shoulder. And my mood changed again. He was my family now. I was to stay at his side for eternity. It was a bond almost stronger than marriage. I could feel the his venom flowing through my veins, connecting me to him. We were bond in a way that was incomprehensible, and yet so strong. I could not leave him, and he would not leave me. I would stick to his diet of animals. And I would never know the taste of human blood. It couldn't be so hard to resist could it? But then again, I had never had any. And I didn't know how good it could be. _

_My piano still sat there waiting for me. And I did not hesitate to go to it now. I sat upon the bench, careful not to sit with too much force and crack the polished wood. The cover on the piano lifted up and I stared at the familiar yet so different keys before me. The once shiny and glossy keys of white and black stood before me, scratched in various places. Yet they were still so beautiful, because I could now see the marks that made it mine. I was sure that I could tell this piano apart from any other now. _

_My left hand automatically settled above two keys, and pressed lightly. I didn't have to remind myself to be careful. My lithe fingers had the amount of pressure needed memorized. I started the slow beginning of a song I remembered from a time that seemed to come from long ago. I tried to remember the name of the song through the haze that was my memory. What was it, this song? The melody changed into something more like the flowing of water. A strong memory came to me. I sat in the foyer that was replicated right here, and played in the sadness of my mother's sickness. Oh. Clair de Lune. I remembered now, the sadness that Debussy had let me express through his music. _

_I played on through the night. I barely noticed when Dr. Cullen left the room to go somewhere. I didn't particularly care where he was at the moment, I was reminiscing. I did however notice when the sun began to go down. I stared at the wonderful sight through the window. The windows had so many scratches on them, they were so hard to see through, so tainted. I wanted to see the beauty of the sunset through my new strong eyes. So I stopped playing for the first time in hours, and I stepped out of the house. _

"_Up here, Edward." _

_I whirled at the sound. It came from above. Dr. Cullen was perched on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling off the edge. _

"_Dr. Cullen? … What are you…?" _

"_Please Edward, it's Carlisle. Jump up. You'll find it quite easy. And the view is spectacular from up here. But careful, I don't particularly fancy building part of the house again." He chuckled. _

"_How did you get up there?" _

"_Easy, just … get leverage, and push yourself up. Jump."_

"_Um, I'm not so sure I won't -" he cut me off. _

"_I said don't worry Edward, you won't break anything. Promise." _

_I sighed. There didn't seem to be any arguing with Dr. … Carlisle. I reached up and took hold of a ledge of a window, then coiled to spring. Surprisingly, I sprang quite easily all the way up to the roof, and landed with a light thud. It wasn't hard at all. I could have gone over the two story high roof if I'd pushed any harder. Amazing. Carlisle smiled at me and patted the patch of roof next to him. I smiled back, exhilarated. _

_Then I set my eyes to the sky above me, and marveled in the beauty, with my new father, Carlisle, at my side to share the experience with me. _


End file.
